


Nothing She Won't Do

by AngelQueen



Series: Porn Battle Entries [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, Porn, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Morgause’s eyes, her sister is perfection. Set post-Series 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing She Won't Do

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the winter 2012 Porn Battle, from the prompt: _Morgana/Morgause, blood, care, worship_.

They are a startling counterpoint in terms of appearance. Morgana is dark while Morgause is fair. Morgana’s smile drives back the night while Morgause’s invites it in. Morgana’s hands are smooth, as a lady’s should be, while Morgause’s are rough from a lifetime of hard work and training at the hands of the priestesses. 

In Morgause’s eyes, her sister is perfection. Her long dark curls are like a cloak, her lovely skin as pale and cool as moonlight, and her voice as clear and beautiful as bells.

It is no wonder she cannot keep herself from reaching out to her, touching her as they lay together in the darkness. Morgana is awake, her green eyes alert, watching her as she glides her fingers over the skin of her arms, shoulders, and face. She makes no protest, even smiles when Morgause touches her fingers to Morgana’s ruby lips. Morgause can barely contain her delight when Morgana parts those lips, her tongue darting out to lick at her fingertips.

She continues her explorations of Morgana’s body, memorizing the contours of her body through the thin shift that hides nothing. She sighs as Morgause ghosts her hands over her breasts and stomach, even giggling a bit when she playfully tickles her sides. The mischief fades quickly, however, as Morgause scoots her body closer to Morgana’s side, resting her breasts against her arm, heavy and aching. Morgana has gone quiet again, eyes dark and watchful, but she still doesn’t protest.

Moving slowly, Morgause slides her hand downward, over and past Morgana’s abdomen. She hears Morgana’s breathing grow deeper, and after a moment passes, the other woman parts her legs, opening herself up to Morgause’s questing fingers.

Morgause doesn’t hesitate. Her fingers press into Morgana’s sex, blocked only by the fabric of the shift. She can feel the tiny hardness of Morgana’s clit, and smiles when Morgana lets out a faint groan as she rubs the fabric against it.

“Morgause…” the other woman pants.

“Yes?” she asks sweetly, pausing in her movements. “Do you wish me to stop?”

“Gods, no!”

Morgause nods, pleased. “Good. Just lie back, sister,” she orders. “Let me take care of you.”

Morgana doesn’t say anything further, just slumps, boneless, on the hard surface of the altar that has served as a bed for them. Morgause throws one of her legs over hers, rubbing her own center against Morgana’s thigh as she resumes her ministrations. It doesn’t take much for Morgana’s hips to start rocking against the movement of her fingers.

“Sister,” she breathes, sounding desperate. “I want…”

“Yes?”

“I want you.”

Morgause smiles. “You will always have me, my sweet sister.” She leans up and presses her own paler lips against Morgana’s red. “Always.”

She hisses a spell, and their clothing vanishes, leaving them naked upon the altar, like some kind of sacrifice from days long gone. She rises up and shifts her body to kneel between Morgana’s legs. Morgana obligingly spreads her thighs wider, even allowing her lower legs to drop off the sides of the altar. Morgause stares down at her sister, naked and bear and spread open, like a gift she need only reach out to claim. She leans forward eagerly, aligning their bodies and pressing them together tightly, nipples brushing.

Morgana whimpers as Morgause does this, the need all but making her eyes glow in the darkness. She hums soothingly, and adjusts her fingers, letting the pad of her thumb keep working at Morgana’s nub while her fingers begin to slip through her juices and dipping into her entrance. Morgause doesn’t get far, though, before she feels a barrier in her way, and that makes her pause.

“Do it, Morgause.” Morgana’s voice is barely more than a whisper.

Morgause looks up at her, questioning. “Are you certain? I need not take your virginity to give you pleasure, dearest.”

She shakes her head. “It is yours. I’d never want anyone else to have it.”

Another pause, and then finally Morgause nods. “Thank you, Morgana,” she says. She kisses her again, more deeply than before, running her tongue over Morgana’s in a furious dance. It’s a distraction, taking just enough of Morgana’s attention from what is happening further down. Morgause nips at her lips as she places more pressure on the hymen blocking her fingers. She pushes, and pushes, and _there_ , it gives way. Morgana stiffens beneath her, and Morgause quickens the pace of her thumb, rubbing frantically at her clitoris as she builds up a rhythm with her fingers.

The pain must not last long, because it only takes a few moments before Morgana’s body resumes its rocking. The little stuttering cries that pass through her lips are not those of discomfort, but of pleasure, which pleases Morgause greatly. Smiling devilishly at her sister, Morgause slides down her body and presses her lips to the apex of her sex. Her sister is nearly at her peak; it won’t take much to drive her over the edge.

It doesn’t. A few licks of her tongue is all that it takes to send Morgana’s body into spasms, her muscles tightening around Morgause’s fingers in a desperate attempt to hold them inside. Morgause continues her thusting and licking through her sister’s orgasm, stopping only when Morgana’s own fingers weave into Morgause’s fair hair, tugging gently.

Slowly, Morgause does as she’s bid, sitting up and pulling her fingers free from Morgana’s wet center. They glisten from both Morgana’s juices and her virgin blood, and she can also see a small trickle of that same substance sliding out of Morgana’s entrance and onto the altar.

As she calms, Morgana stares up at her, and smiles sleepily. “Mm,” she hums, “you are so good to me, sister. I do not deserve your kindness.”

Morgause starts to shake her head, but is cut off from speaking at all as Morgana sits up, her legs still spread wide open. She takes Morgause’s hand, the one still covered with her sister’s essence, and leads it down to Morgause’s own center. “Please,” Morgana says quietly, “let me watch you.”

There is nothing Morgause will not do for her sister.


End file.
